


Bunker Beer

by willyouboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Castiel, Bittersweet, Bunker Fluff, Castiel in the Bunker, Cockblock Sam, Coffee, Complete, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Drunkenness, F/M, Female Castiel, First Kiss, Genderbending, Genderswap, Hangover, Human Castiel, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Men of Letters Bunker, Mistakes, Non-Consensual, One Shot, Rule 63, Sleepy Castiel, Unrequited, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willyouboy/pseuds/willyouboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas stayed up later than usual and may have had a couple drinks past buzzed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunker Beer

It takes her half an hour to give up trying to go back to sleep. 

She spends thirty minutes kicking off the sheets then pulling them back up, pushing her pillow away then hugging it, flipping onto her back then onto her stomach then onto her side and back to her stomach where she squeezes her eyes shut even though the room is pitch black except for the line of light coming from underneath her door. Her chest feels light, but her head is painfully heavy while her temples beat like war drums. Her tongue feels clammy as it trails along her teeth, and the seam of her lips is hard to break as she yawns. Last night may have been a mistake.

She pats around the surface of her nightstand searching for the half-filled glass she remembers being given. She’s not sure which brother was the one. Hopefully it was Sam. Hopefully it was Sam who had steered her into the room and gotten her to step out of her jeans and crawl under the blankets with the shirt she’d been wearing all day. Cas brings the glass to her lips, head only raised as much as it needs to be for gravity to work in her favor, enough for her not to make a mess. She tries to remember having to reach up high enough to use Sam’s shoulder to steady herself when she’d gotten to her bedside. She tries to remember the hands as being bigger than they were, the hands that had hesitantly fretted over her unbalanced body as she’d moved from standing, to sitting, to lying down. Cas tries not to think about the fact that Sam hadn’t even been awake when she and Dean had started drinking. 

When she sets the glass down her ears have gone pink, and her mouth feels tickled, and she wants more water. She wants it filled to the top, with ice.  
Instead of doing anything about it though, she goes back to her hunt for the perfect position to fall back to sleep. It turns out to be on her stomach with the blankets only pulled up to her knees and a pillow beneath her arm and she’s interrupted by a knock to her bedroom door. It makes her cringe and sigh and stretch out her legs. She doesn’t say anything, but then again, she should’ve known that the knock had been nothing more than a nicety as she hears someone walk into her room. He clears his throat and even then she allows herself to pretend that it’s Sam.

“You up?”  
His voice is something between a whisper and his normal speaking range. It’s something cautious that prompts her cheeks into warming in the dark. She keeps her eyes closed and wishes him away. Of course he comes closer. She recognizes his gait as he approaches the bed, the casualness of it. Before he can get too close she pulls the sheet up and over her shoulder. He’ll know that she’s awake now, but she’d rather that than have him see her underwear and her bare legs. She shouldn’t care about that. She hadn’t before. Last night had been a mistake. 

“I’m up,” she mumbles. It’s a bit unnecessary and his huff of a laugh confirms it. 

She peeks up at him just as he sets a new glass of water on the stand. There’s no ice, but it looks cold. In the dull light from the open door he looks like a breathing shadow with some muted color to it. He’s picking up her empty glass and smearing away a drop on the wood from the new glass. He’s not looking at her at all so it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. There’s a faintly amused tug to his lips that she figures is left over from his laugh.

He’s had a shower, she can smell it on him. It’s that fresh. Her toes curl and it’s easy for them to hear in the quiet, the way the sheet rustles. He bypasses her gaze and looks to the mound that must be her feet. He sits in the space beside them and the bed bounces. With his hands set on top of his knees he rubs a single circle with his palms. “Go ahead and drink up.”

He’d said something like that last night, and just like then she sits up and reaches for the cup. The work of the movement makes her heart thump hollowly and she pauses before her fingers close around the glass. She sips at it when she’s ready and she can feel his eyes on her. She keeps swallowing until the glass is nearly vertical then she sets it back down. As soon as her hands are free she tucks the sheet in around her hips and combs a hand through her hair. She licks the wetness from the corners of her mouth as she stares at a corner of her room, the one where her pants are. 

He shifts on the bed and she pulls her feet in. It’s the fastest she’s moved all morning. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he yawns and scratches his shoulder then scratches at his chin. Cas doesn’t need to see the transition, she can hear it well enough thanks to his five o’clock shadow. The sound catches her breath, makes her heart beat in her fingertips because last night those barely there hairs had prickled her lips until they’d met his. They’d pulled away at the same time, bodies tensed on the couch and shoulders still facing each other. She’d been looking at his awed eyes, no longer half-lidded with alcohol, and he’d been looking at her mouth.

“Headache?”

Her brows quickly separate as she turns wide eyed to Dean. 

“I didn’t mean to.”  
It comes out in a rush as heat flushes over her cheeks and he stops blinking, pulls his hand away from his face. She watches it press against the covers and absently spread away the nearest wrinkle. 

Both of them keep their eyes on the other. It's like their waiting to see if they're really going to talk about this. They'd left it alone last night. Cas can't recall specifics, but there had been a quiet gathering of the bottles from the coffee table, their occasional clinking in their hands had been the only sound until Dean broke and started muttering about something. Had it been about laundry? He'd said something about chores, something that didn't have to do with anything. Something safe. He'd stopped though when Cas had dropped a bottle just shy of the bin. She could remember that clear enough because of the shock of the shatter, how loud it had been. He'd told her to stand still because she was barefoot, and he'd swept up everything. She could remember the scraggly brush of the broom against the side of her feet. She forgot what she did, what face she made, but it was something that had made Dean smile while he went on sweeping. She remembers just standing there with wave after wave of heat under her skin, embarrassed about two things now as her lips fidgeted and the glass glittered on the kitchen floor. 

It looks like he's remembering the same things too as they sit on the bed in the dim. 

"Cas, listen," and he looks to her shoulder and she doesn't try to meet his eyes there.

When Sam pushes the door open they both jump. 

He fills the doorway and she thinks Sam mentions coffee, or it could be that she just smells it better now with the hallway open to them. She's not sure because when Dean had turned to the door his hand had landed on her shin and it was firm and warm through the sheet and she can feel the vibrations of his words when he speaks, when he says, "We'll be out in a minute."

Sam nods then leaves after sending a small wave her way. He's closed the door and it's dark again except for the light coming from beneath it. 

As her eyes adjust she can see the relaxed slump of Dean's shoulders, see him breathing. It's like they're trying to get used to the quiet again, trying to get back to that uncomfortable place they'd established. Cas wants to curl up and sit somewhere further on the bed but his hand is still there on her leg like an anchor. It's hard to tell for whom. 

"Still there?"  
He's turned his head slightly with the question, just enough to make out the pull of his cheek, the way he's slightly amused himself as he squeezes her through the sheet. It makes the muscles of her back tighten up.

"Yes."

"You okay?"

He's looking at her now. His expression is all at once honest, and serious, and trying to be calm like she's some grieving victim from a case he needs answers for.

"Not really." 

And she says it like an apology as she sits up a bit and shifts her hips just to give her body something to do. The thrum of her heart is in so many unexpected places. It's awful. Just beneath her fingernails and her temples is where it's the worst, but she's pretty sure that's not what he's asking about, not what he'd meant. He doesn't push though, just nods and finally removes his hand as he stands up.  
"You should finish your water."

That should be the end of it, should be the part where he leaves with the promise of breakfast in a few minutes. Instead, he pauses almost upright, hesitates before he pushes her hair off of the side of her face and the thrill of the sudden touch is interrupted by the sight of him leaning in. 

This time, she feels what he must have been feeling on that couch. The press of his mouth is so gentle and sure but his restless fingers trapped in her hair give him away.

He doesn't let their eyes meet when he pulls away. Cas isn't sure she'd be able to stomach it if they did.

She has to sit there with her heartbeat knocking just inside her ears until he leaves the room, closes the door behind himself. She has to wait until she can't hear his footsteps in the hall before she brings up a shaky hand to wipe her lips, smear his touch away. Her stomach rolls over itself twice before she forces herself to lay down. Why hadn't he believe her? She hadn't meant to do that last night, hadn't meant to give in to that brother. Dean has always been one to take though. It's always been that way with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty yall, finally updated the ending! :)


End file.
